


Friendly Fire

by helila



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Contact War, Gen, Language Barrier, enemies to whatever the hell this is, meet cute but in a warzone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28015803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helila/pseuds/helila
Summary: He was a Hierarchy soldier, she was an Alliance marine, can I make it any more obvious?
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	Friendly Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to GemTheGinger for beta-ing this in multiple sessions.

Garrus watched over the field like a bird of prey, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Perched high above in his sniper’s nest, safe behind a window, he only had to be patient while the enemy hid like vermin. One wrong move was all it would take. He knew. They knew. Quite a few of them had already met their demise at the end of his rifle.

Truth be told, they were a resilient bunch. Stubborn to a fault, nearly as much as turians could be. Anyone else would have long given up this siege and taken their defeat with whatever pride they had left. But not them. Not the humans.

Some of the stories he’d heard about these strange aliens were insane. Their weapons were outdated, but their improvisation skills could make them turn any ordinary object into one. The wardens had learned quickly not to leave anything within reach for a captive human. Not even a mug. According to an upset medic, one of the humans bit her on the arm. Sedatives had become part of the protocol.

Some of the soldiers described the humans as a disturbing cross between asari and batarians. Garrus had yet to see one up close to confirm that claim. The photos he saw didn’t really do justice to the rumors. And now through the scope of his weapon, all he could see were fully armored figures with two legs, two arms and a head. Not quite the alien freakshow he was promised.

Seemed like he would have to wait until another time to get a proper look. All he needed to do was hold out for a couple hours more, until reinforcements arrived. His muscles were getting sore and he’d noticed the feeling of thirst earlier, but he could make it. The humans weren’t really in a position to undo this mission.

In retrospect, he got overconfident. Fell into the trap of underestimating the enemy. The sound was small, but unmistakable. Garrus reacted a fraction of a second later than he was supposed to. As he tried to roll out the line of fire, his armor resonated with the force of multiple impacts. The brunt of it was dampened by his shielding. One projectile skidded on his helmet’s visor, cracking but not breaking it.

Once upright, in a quick motion he pulled up his pistol to return the fire. He barely caught a glimpse of his assailant as they dove behind the door frame.

_ So one of them had made it inside the building _ , he noted it with a frown.  _ No time to waste then. _

He moved closer through the room. In its empty state, it offered no cover for hiding. This encounter would be swift and deadly.

The sound of a pin being removed made Garrus freeze in his tracks.

“Crap.”

For the brief moment he considered ending up as chunks of metal and flesh stuck to the walls and how painful that might be, a small metal object rolled into the room. He held his breath.

When nothing happened, the garbled words –of what Garrus could only assume to be displeasure– hit his ears.

_ “Shit.” _

Garrus’s relief was short-lived. In the blink of an eye, the human charged from behind the door and crashed into the turian’s chest. Arms swaying wide to the side, he desperately tried to find his balance.

A loud crack signalled the damage on his visor getting worse, as the human landed a straight punch on it. The interface inside started to glitch out.

Garrus growled with annoyance. He expected gunfire, not a bar fight.

With some footing regained, he tried to aim at the human and put an end to this. The alien wasted no time. They lunged forward, attempting to wrestle the pistol out of his hand. With great surprise, he noted the strength behind their efforts. Maybe he was just tired and slightly dehydrated, but he couldn’t shake them off. Within this struggle, he could finally take his first close look at a human.

Their helmet left their face visible, with only a translucent visor covering it. Despite his own not being see-through, he felt as though the human could see him. For a brief moment, they locked gazes.

A pair of eyes, furrowed brows, a long nose and a snarling mouth.

_ They do look like the asari _ , he acknowledged with a tinge of disappointment.

Perhaps the human took offense at his thoughts. In the next moment they pulled back and then immediately crashed their helmet into his. A loud crack followed. Black sparks filled Garrus’s field of vision as the room appeared to shift around him with dangerous speed. The human before him became a blur, impossible to hit or aim at.

He took a futile step backwards and grunted in pain when his ankle twisted into a painful angle. Landing on his right knee with a thud, he was now completely at the mercy of the enemy. Garrus lifted his head to look death in the eye. The barrel of a gun was glaring back at him. His own weapon was lying somewhere on the ground, out of sight and reach.

The left side of his visor had broken, exposing his eye. Turning his gaze back at the alien’s face, he steeled himself. At least now the human could really see him. He would not die faceless and forgotten. He would not flinch.

From beneath their own cracked visor, the human regarded him with a strange look. Though their features creased with hostility, their eyes betrayed the fear and amazement that lurked behind. It wasn’t quite what Garrus had expected.

Of course, whether he died as a result of contempt or morbid curiosity made little difference to him.

Then again, he couldn’t help but wonder.  _ What was the human waiting for? _

Their finger remained firm on the trigger.

_ Are they… _

A frightening idea made the muscles in his jaw and mandibles tighten.

_ Are they going to take me hostage? _

Death, he could accept. But torture and experiments in some strange, hidden lab, only to be discarded when he stopped being useful?  _ No... Spirits, no! _

Just as he started thinking of the possibilities, the human did a quick gesture with their weapon. Still aiming it at his head, they motioned upwards. Then, freeing their left hand they pointed at their own helmet.

_ “Remove it,” _ they barked in their strange language.

Garrus could well understand it without words. And he wasn’t pleased about the order.

_ “Remove it!” _

“Spirits…” he cursed under his breath. “Have some patience.”

He slowly lifted his hands, not taking his eyes off the human. They watched just as intently as he undid the clasps.

He lifted off the front. The human’s eyebrows rose high.

_ “Ho-ly fuck…” _

The apparent shock in their long-drawn words elicited a snicker out of Garrus. With their head cocked to the side, the human squinted at him as if trying to decide between feeling revulsed or amazed.

_ “You are one ugly son of a gun,”  _ they said at last, shaking their head slowly.  _ “In your defense, this isn’t exactly a beauty contest here.” _

“You sure like to talk,” Garrus muttered, not impressed in the least.

The human touched some gadget on their armor and continued their gibberish talk. Garrus had a suspicion that they were communicating with their squad and this had proven true soon enough, when more of their kind entered the room. When they saw him kneeling at gunpoint, the human squad visibly rejoiced. Cheers and excited words filled the air. While a tall, heavily built human handcuffed Garrus he watched his captor get patted on the back by a comrade. The pride emanating from them made his heart sink. His subvocals thrummed with shame.

But when he saw one of them pick up his sniper rifle, he couldn’t restrain himself. A low growl rumbled in his chest. He stepped forward, only to be yanked back immediately.

_ “Where do you think you are going, amigo?” _ a deep human voice called out from behind him.

Some laughed. Garrus’s captor looked at the weapon and then back at him. They raised a hand, palm flat towards him. If they were trying to calm him, he didn’t care for it.

“Don’t do me any favors,” he huffed.

He remained quiet while the humans escorted him out of the building and into one of their bulky ground vehicles.

During the ride, the thing shook and skipped like some rabid animal, but the humans seemed to be accustomed to it already. Still, he refused to give them anything more to jeer at. So he sat with a stiff back, enveloped in stubborn silence. Meanwhile, the humans around him kept flapping their mouths, the burly one being the loudest of all. Even tried to make some conversation with Garrus too, disregarding his lack of ability to understand a single word.

Luckily he didn’t have to spend hours locked up with this bunch. Around an hour into the trip, he could feel the vehicle slowing down and then after a couple more turns stopping completely.

With two humans at his side, he was led out into the afternoon light. He couldn’t help but anxiously gulp down air as his eyes took in the surroundings. Prefab buildings, armored vehicles, transports. Humans, a lot more than expected.

They took notice of him too. He could only assume what their whispering between each other meant.

_ Nothing good, of course. _

As he was being guided towards one of the buildings further away, Garrus spotted a male human heading towards them. Based on his decorated uniform, he seemed important enough. Their whole little entourage stopped when the man called out to them.

Garrus’s captor now with their helmet under their arm, hurried forward. The unnecessarily large amount of hair that some humans seemed to grow out was twisted up into a bun on their head. The man however has seemingly gone bald.

The two soldiers exchanged salutes. Taking a better look at the two aliens before him, Garrus could note some characteristics to better identify these people. The higher ranking officer had the looks of an experienced leader and his entire presence demanded respect. He listened keenly while his subordinate gave a report of the mission.

Garrus didn’t care earlier to wonder about it, but now he could tell that his captor was a female. She stood tall and proud. Her voice carried a certain tone of confidence, that made even Garrus feel some sort of awe.

The officer gave her shoulder a squeeze. They obviously had an amicable relationship, but Garrus had yet to see anyone treat this particular human with animosity.

Well, aside from himself.

The humans seemed to have come to an agreement and Garrus’s captor returned to lead them towards their original goal. He bitterly reminded himself that he wasn’t here as some quietly observing guest, but as a prisoner of war. His lifespan had most likely been reduced from decades to mere weeks.

_ What a sad, miserable way to end a life. _

—

Shepard took another good look at the device on the table. She had worked hard and long enough for it to work, but it was still just a hypothesis. The thing hadn’t seen any action yet, due to the lack of test subjects.

But now, they finally had one. Turians were  _ dead set _ on not letting themselves be captured. Shepard thanked her good luck for finding the one single turian who had the courtesy to stay alive.  _ For now, anyways. _

Her fingertips tingled with excitement. If Lady Luck continued to bless her, she might set off some serious changes to the war. God knew they needed it.

“Please work,” she whispered, while packing up the equipment. Then once again, for good measure, “Please,  _ please _ work.”

While walking through the yard, she could barely keep herself from breaking out into a jog.

Once inside the designated building, she found Vega standing guard at the door.

“Don’t worry, fella is still alive in there.” He motioned with his thumb. As always, he seemed to be in a relaxed mood.

“Might be a gal, Vega. You can’t really tell.” Shepard corrected him.

The marine shuddered.

“Hope not, because my dating prospects are shot then.”

Shepard scoffed, before turning her attention back to the task at hand. She took a long, deep breath.  _ This better fucking work. _

“Wish me luck,” she exhaled and keyed the lock.

The room inside contained two chairs, a table and one very pissed off turian chained to the aforementioned object at the wrists. Their eyes were shooting daggers at her.

_ Still not very happy about being stripped of their armor _ , Shepard frowned at the memory. Though they didn’t put up a fight, the process must have been terribly humiliating. Especially considering how long they had struggled with the individual pieces. That armor was like a puzzle. A very evil and tormenting one.

“Hello.” She made a weak attempt at communication.

The turian remained silent.

_ Okay then. _

The alien said nothing as she made her way closer. When she put down her package on the table they seemed to tense up.

Shepard made an effort to appear calm as she seated herself and began to pull out the individual pieces with slow, careful movements. She risked a look at the turian. They appeared wary of the situation still, but she could notice a hint of curiosity. They leaned closer just a hair.

_ Good _ , she noted. Removing the packaging from the table, she pushed the device closer towards the centre of the table. The thing was barely bigger than a book and aside from a couple switches it had no outstanding features. They could worry about the design later.

Shepard picked up the headset that was meant to fit on a turian head. While pushing it into reach for the alien, her eyes lingered on their large, three fingered hands. Each ended in sharp talons. So sharp indeed, she didn’t have a hard time imagining them tearing through the skin of her arm. She would bleed out pretty fast.

Her eyes trailed upwards on the muscular arms that were hidden beneath the turian’s undersuit, up to their wide shoulders and the strange carapace that shielded their neck. Their head was covered in plates that seemed flexible enough around the face to show expressions. Shepard counted nine spiky growths that grew around the scalp and tapered down towards the back. They had a small, ridged nose. But their most striking feature was the mandible at both sides of their mouth that could twitch and move, sometimes revealing the rows of sharp, pointy teeth it hid. These mandibles also sported an interesting pattern in blue that seemed to be part of the painting which ran across the turian’s cheeks and nose.

And of course she couldn’t ignore the cold, blue, bird-like eyes that glared at her.

For a heartbeat, Shepard could swear that a deep rumble was emanating from the alien. She could feel the skin on her neck prickle with unease.

_ Come on _ , she chided herself,  _ they are the prisoner and not you. _

She grabbed the remaining headset and put it on her head. Hopefully the alien would follow suit.

The turian hesitantly picked up the gadget, briefly examining it, before shooting Shepard a look that seemed to say, “Really?” Some things didn’t need to be spoken to be understood.

At last, the turian relented. 

Once both headsets were in place, Shepard reached out to the main device to start the processing sequence. An orb of blue light appeared above its smooth surface. This seemed to pique the interest of the turian, as they leaned in closer and muttered something that Shepard couldn’t understand. For now.

The machine signalled ready.

Shepard cleared her throat.

“Can you understand me?” she asked.

The alien’s attention snapped to her, surprise rippling across their features. After a double take, they opened their mouth to speak.

“Yes, I understand.”

Shepard couldn’t contain her glee. A wide smile appeared on her face, that she tried to hide behind her palm.

The turian cocked their head to the side.

“How… you make this?” they asked.

In its current state, the complexity of the sentences the device could process were sadly, somewhat limited. Grammatical errors were to be expected. Shepard had to remind herself to keep all questions and answers simple.

“We find technology,” she started, “old knowledge. We study and use it. We learn a lot and fast.”

The turian nodded along as Shepard continued.

“This technology make us travel to stars more. Fast travel.”

“The Mass Relay?”

“Yes.”

“No permission,” they shook their head, “to activate Mass Relay.”

Shepard furrowed her brows. As far as she knew, there were no  _ “keep out, don’t touch” _ signs on any Mass Relays.

“Is this why you attack us?”

No answer.

“Why not talk to us?” Shepard questioned, trying and failing to keep her ire in check. “Give us a warning? We are explorers, but you shoot and kill my people!”

“Because it is dangerous,” the other shot back. “You don’t know the history or understand the danger! We keep the law, we keep everyone safe. It is our duty.”

Shepard leaned back in her chair. 

The turians skipped the warning shots and went straight to methodically eradicating the human ships. After that, things escalated at a frightening speed. The intergalactic war was already brewing on the horizon, the first and perhaps the last that humanity would ever take part in. The turians were obviously quite skilled in warfare.  _ If this was their version of keeping up the law, what else were they capable of? _

“So now we all must die,” Shepard said.

“Death or surrender.”

“There has to be another way.” She raised her hands, palms facing upwards. “Our people are killing each other – for what?”

The turian looked away.

“I can’t change this.”

“But this thing can!” Shepard pointed at the machine. “My people can talk with your leaders.”

Curious, the turian turned their gaze back to her. With one browplated raised in a manner that Shepard recognized to be contemplation, they studied her.

Just about when they were ready to give an answer and opened their mouth to speak, the sound of an opening door caught both of their attention.

Shepard turned towards the noise and immediately rose to stand up from her chair.

“Sir!” she exclaimed as Anderson stepped inside the room.

“At ease, Shepard.” He raised a hand. “You might want to sit back down for this.”

“Sir?” 

Confused, Shepard obliged. She glanced at the turian, who seemed to be just as lost.

“We have just received word from a so-called Citadel Council to immediately stand down.”

“Council… of what? The turians?”

“No.” The officer paused for what felt like an eternity. “The Council of races that inhabit the galaxy.”

Shepard felt like her entire world had just shrunk down to the size of a marble.

_ “There are more of them?” _

—

Vega let out an impressed whistle.

“Now, this is a  _ party! _ ”

Lina heard Williams reply with a scoff as they stepped inside the station’s grand hall. The three marines were greeted by a sea of dress uniforms. Various alien races mingled in smaller groups, with some humans standing awkwardly about or drifting from one cluster to another. Despite the splendidly decorated tables and the pleasant music mixing with the murmur of conversation, the air was heavy with tension.

Under the pretense of diplomacy, this was still a battlefield of a different kind. 

The war –or the “conflict” as others would refer to it– had officially ended, but in reality, this only meant a change from weapons to words. The struggle was far from over for humanity; it was clearly laid out under the station’s lights. They were watching from the sidelines, while the Council races made their choices.

“Of course we had to run into the spiky monsters,” Vega sighed deeply, “when we could’ve had First Contact with them.”

Lina followed his gaze that settled on a broad-shouldered woman, dressed in a black uniform. Her scaly skin glistened in a sapphire hue.

_ Ah, an asari, _ Lina stifled a smile,  _ can’t say I blame James. _

“We would’ve lost that war pretty damn fast–” Williams rolled her eyes “–with you immediately surrendering to the first blue lady in sight.”

Vega slowly shook his head.

“Still can’t believe there was an entire race of pretty women out there, this whole time.”

“They can’t all be pretty!”

“Haven’t seen an ugly one yet.”

Williams narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe they hide away the ugly ones.”

Vega suppressed a snicker, with half success.

“Speaking of ugly…” he lowered his voice and nodded his chin towards a gangly alien with freakishly huge eyes protruding from their elongated head.

Williams opened her mouth ready for a remark, but Lina felt it was about time to cut their fun short.

“I’d rather you didn’t spark another war by insulting a salarian General.” She shot the man a sharp glance, before turning to her other companion. “Or started rumors about the asari.”

Lina tapped the translator device on her ear. Gifted by the Council, this prototype worked with higher efficiency than the human design.

“Keep in mind that they can understand us now.”

Williams’ lips closed and settled into a frown. Out of the three of them, she was the least happy about being selected to attend this event. 

Vega shrugged. A smile played in the corners of his mouth. “They already signed the peace treaty, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“At least give it a full day before challenging it, please.”

Williams remained silent, staring ahead at the congregation with furrowed brows. Lina could tell she was entwined in ruminating thoughts, none of them pleasant.

After the turians bombed and occupied Shanxi, the colony which her father commanded and had to surrender to keep its citizens alive, the marine hadn’t exactly been open to the idea of friendly relations with the aliens.

Lina understood. Her uncle nearly gave his life for the liberation of Shanxi. But the Alliance expected them to uphold a standard and look beyond personal grievances. Anderson made the call. He wouldn’t have done so if he had the slightest doubt about either of them. 

“No need to start kissing turians–” Lina nudged Williams in the side “–but we do have to give a good impression.”

“Can I start by the buffet?” Vega was already in motion towards the tables, not waiting for an answer.

The two women watched him disappear in astonishment.

“Do you think he has done his reading about dextro and levo food?” Williams asked quickly.

“Nope.”

“I better check on him.” The marine turned to Lina, then she lifted an eyebrow as seemingly something else had caught her attention.

“You’ve got company anyway,” Williams said with a smirk, before turning and leaving.

—

Garrus was having a perfectly boring time walking about in the hall, until a familiar voice reached him. He froze in his tracks, turning towards the source.

There she was, his captor and interrogator. Standing near the entrance with two of her companions, all of them donned in the Alliance’s deep blue uniforms. They must have arrived recently. 

His translator couldn’t pick up on the exact words, but the tone seemed to imply a friendly conversation. The man of the trio sure seemed impressed with his surroundings. The other woman less so. Garrus’s attention wasn’t focused on those two however. 

In the months that had passed since his release from the human base, his world had turned upside down. Suddenly he was the center of attention, constantly being questioned, implored to tell his story again and again. Garrus grew tired of it pretty fast. What his fellow turians wanted to hear was a tale of defiance against the merciless humans. They didn’t care for one lone human woman and her attempt at communication.

In a strange, inexplicable way Garrus grew to feel some sort of familiarity towards this person. Despite not even knowing her name.

Now watching from afar, he felt pulled to greet her.

_ What would I say?  _ he frowned.  _ Hello there, interrogated any turians lately? _

Then again, he didn’t exactly have anything better to do.

Just about as he took the first step forward, the male marine splintered off from the group and made a beeline towards the dextro tables. It took the two women a second of quiet staring, before they shared some concerned words.

That’s when he was spotted. The unknown woman shot him a strange look, before following after the man. Garrus’s captor turned around and immediately noticed him, surprise flashing across her face.

It was sure as hell late to bail now.

Without breaking his stride, Garrus closed the distance between them.

“Long time no see,” she said, sparing him from starting the conversation.

“Ah well, I was busy enjoying my freedom.” The words came out a lot more effortlessly than he feared and they seemed to delight the human.

“I’m glad we can talk in a more… sophisticated manner.” She gestured towards her earpiece. “The technology is amazing.”

“It did make brokering a peace treaty easier.” Garrus nodded.

The woman hummed. The chatter of the crowd and the sound of clinking glass flowed around them. Garrus shifted his weight from one leg to another, wishing he had a drink to absent-mindedly stare into.

“It’s a strange thing, isn’t it?” She cocked her head lightly to the side.

“The peace treaty?”

“The whole thing about people trying to kill each other and then–” she shrugged “–trying to act normal again.”

Garrus narrowed his eyes.

“Are all humans so philosophical?”

“Just me.”

“I guess that explains why you kept asking me strange questions, instead of just shooting me.”

Her lips parted into a toothy smile.

“I’m sorry, would you like me to amend that mistake?”

“I can’t tell if you are joking or not.” Garrus felt more confused by the minute. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from this conversation, but this was definitely not it.

“I’m an N7.” The woman lowered her voice. “If at any point I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be enjoying this fine evening together.”

Garrus raised a browplate. He very clearly remembered a grenade and the fear of complete disintegration.

“What about the grenade then?”

“Flashbang.”

_ Ah. _

“Fine. I believe you.”

Hearing that, a smug look appeared on her face. Garrus couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Guess I owe you one then–” he added, before realizing once again that he still didn’t know who to thank.

Apparently, she understood and reached out her hand in the customary human greeting.

“Lina Shepard.”

After a heartbeat of consideration, Garrus took and squeezed her hand.

“Garrus Vakarian.”

“Nice to meet you, Garrus.”


End file.
